


Milk Run

by smornbee



Category: Hat Films - Fandom
Genre: Hatslash, M/M, Sad, Yogslash, smornby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 09:11:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11688540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smornbee/pseuds/smornbee
Summary: An average day in the hat house turns into a life changing tragedy when Ross goes out for a milk run.





	Milk Run

Smith is sprawled out, awakening in his bed as morning light breaks through the cracks in the curtains. He stretches his arms and legs out as far as they can go, eyes still shut though he can see the light blasting orange through his eyelids. Rubbing at his eyes he opens them cautiously, slightly blinded by the light. Sitting up, he presses the on button for his phone to check the time. 10:47. He gets up and wanders across the room to throw an old Hat Films t-shirt on. As he emerges from his room he hears clanging coming from the kitchen, paired with light beat boxing obviously coming from Ross. Rolling his eyes, he makes his way towards the noise. Does he ever stop beat boxing?  
  
Smith peeks in from behind the kitchen door, unnoticed by Ross who appears to be making pancakes. He watches Ross as he dances along to his own beat box, pouring pancake batter into a pan. Smith smiles, endeared by how happy Ross seems.

 

  
“Morning, Ross.” Smith says to announce his presence, as to not make Ross jump.

  
“Oh, morning, Smith. I’m making pancakes, you want some?” Ross asks, smiling and gesturing towards the pancake on the pan.

  
“Sure, mate, as long as there’s no whiskey in it.” Smith jokes. Ross laughs and continues making the pancakes as Smith flicks the kettle on. Smith leans against the counter as he waits for the kettle to boil. He watches Ross, his eyes lingering lower and lower…

  
“Smith.” Trott says sternly, initially making him jump. Trott’s eyebrows are raised at Smith as he looks back at Trott all flustered and blushing.

  
“Uhh. Hey, Trott. How’s it going?” Smith spluttered, trying to pretend he wasn’t doing what he obviously was just doing.

  
“Fine. Smith, I need to talk to you a second.” Trott announced, opening the kitchen door for Smith to come through. Smith followed through sheepishly, smiling at Ross as he went by.

  
“Smith, you were staring as Ross’ arse again.” Trott states simply, watching Smith as he gets all disconcerted and in denial. Shaking his head, Trott looks at Smith seriously.

  
“You need to say something to him, it can’t be like this. You can’t live with a guy casually that you have crazy feelings for, and don’t even try to deny it. I mean, mate, could you be anymore obvious? It’s been like this for years, and now we live together, it can’t go on.” Trott rants on with Smith only half listening and half drowning in embarrassment. He could never tell Ross how he feels, if Ross didn’t feel the same way it would ruin Hat Films, it would ruin their friendship. He’d rather just be friends with Ross and hide his feelings than mean nothing at all to him.

  
“You know I can’t do that Trott, it could ruin what we have going here. We can’t risk that.” Smith argued.

  
“You continuing on like this could ruin it too. I’m almost one hundred percent sure that Ross feels the same way, don’t you see the way he gets around you? You’re both blind idiots. I was right about your feelings, Smith. I’m right about Ross’ too.” Trott assured, becoming softer at Smith’s doubt, patting him lightly on the shoulder.

  
“Fine Trott, I’ll try, not today though. I want one last day of everything being normal before I ruin it all.” Smith sighs, heading back into the kitchen to pour his tea. Trott rolls his eyes at Smith’s exaggeration, completely certain in the fact that they are both completely crazy about each other.

 

* * *

 

 

They all spend the rest of their day playing games, watching TV, generally chilling. It’s 9pm when they’re all lounged out in the living room, Trott sat in his chair playing Trials on his phone whilst the other two are sat on the sofa, giggling at the TV show they’re watching. Trott peeks up from over his phone to watch them as they laugh to each other, sitting closer than necessary and being so annoyingly cute.

 

“Hey Trotty, you want tea? I’m making me and Smith some.” Ross announces, getting up to grab each of the mugs they were using.

  
“Sure, mate.” Trott smiles as he passes his mug to Ross. When Ross is in the kitchen Trott raises his eyebrows up and down at Smith in a suggestive manner, causing Smith to roll his eyes and move his attention back to the TV.

  
“Smith. Hey, you know what would be a perfect thing to do tonight?” Trott asks, fake bewilderment in his voice.

  
“Shut up.” Smith counters, turning the volume up on the TV. Trott gets up from his seat to whisper in Smiths ear.

  
“Admit your feeling’s to Ross. I’ll go to bed in a bit and it’ll be the perfect time.” Trott whispers, smiling happily at his amazing idea.

  
“What are you guys whispering about?” Ross asks, raising an eyebrow.

  
“Nothin’” Trott states abruptly before shimmying back to his seat.

  
“Right, well, we’re out of milk, I can just drive down to the corner shop to get some if you want? We’ll need some in the morning.” Ross asks, already grabbing his coat and car keys before either of them can answer.

  
“Sure, hurry back.” Smith says, smiling and waving as Ross makes his way out the door. Smith looks back at Trott, who is again raising his eyebrows up and down suggestively. Rolling his eyes and sighing, Smith decides to go to his room until Ross gets back to continue the TV show.

  
“Jesus, Trott, you’re so damn enthusiastic about this. Do you just want to see us bang?” Smith sighs as he grabs his phone and laptop and makes his way out of the room.

  
“Totally! Oooh, randy.” Trott shouts to Smith as he hears him going upstairs.

 

* * *

 

 

40 minutes pass and Smith is staring at the clock impatiently. He hears someone coming upstairs and immediately leaves his room to see if it’s Ross.

  
“Smith, has Ross texted you? The corner shop is only five minutes away…” Trott asks, worry clear in his voice.

  
“No, has he texted you? Maybe he went to another shop or something… maybe it was closed? I don’t know.” Smith mutters attempting to reassure himself more than anything and constantly watching the time on his phone screen.

  
“No… Maybe you’re right, but he’s not answering my calls. I thought maybe he left his phone here but I can’t find it.” Trott supplies, though not wanting to get too worried, Ross is a grown man and they’re worrying about him like he’s their kid that stayed out past curfew.

  
“Trott… you don’t think something could have happened? Why would he be taking so long? Why wouldn’t he answer his phone?” Smith asked, as his voice gets increasingly more worried at the realisation that something really could have happened.

  
“Maybe he bumped into someone, I don’t know either.”

  
“We should go look for him, come on get your car keys.” Smith decided, springing into action. The action is stopped when the home phone rings and they both sigh in relief, assuming it must be Ross.

“Hello, is this Alex Smith or Chris Trott?” An unfamiliar but official sounding voice asks over the phone

  
“It’s Chris Trott.” Trott answers, confused, making unsure faces to Smith who is watching eagerly. Smith’s heart drops at the realisation that it’s obviously not Ross, and begins putting his coat on so they can leave when Trott’s finished with his phone call.

  
“You live with Ross Hornby, correct?” The voice asks.

  
“Yes, correct… Why? Do you know where he is?” Trott asks, bewildered.

  
“I’m sorry to tell you this but Ross has been in a car accident, he is in critical condition in the hospital right now. I have called his immediate family but they have a long way to drive, they recommended I call you two as soon as possible.” Trott’s heart drops at the words, disbelief taking over him. He looks at Smith, who’s waiting eagerly by the door and Smith looks back, confusion on his face, the confusion quickly turning to overwhelming worry as he reads Trott’s face. Something isn’t right.

  
“Who is that, Trott? Is it Ross? What happened?” Smith asks frantically, breathing heavy and a sick feeling in his gut.

  
“We’ll be right there.” Trott replies to the voice on the phone, placing the phone back down harshly, grabbing his coat and leading Smith out the door.

  
“Trott, what’s going on? Please, tell me. Is it Ross? Please… Oh god…” Smith pleads, feeling dizzy at the thought of Ross hurt. They both get in the car and buckle their seat belts before Trott feels he can tell Smith.

  
“Smith… Ross is in critical condition at the hospital right now… You need to be calm. We have to be calm. We just need to get there as soon as possible.” Trott answers, trying his best to hold himself together, they can’t both be complete messes at the hospital.

  
“Fuck… What the fuck… That can’t be true. We were just with him. He’s fine; he’s got to be fine. We were just with him. Critical condition?” Smith mutters to himself breathlessly, breathing becoming harder and harder as he thinks about it, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks. He bites his bottom lip hard in attempts to stop them as realisation dawns on him and doubt fills his mind.

  
“Smith, calm down. Be calm for him, come on.” Trott urges, patting Smith on the back in attempts to calm him.

 

* * *

 

 

Hours pass and they are still sat in the waiting room of the hospital, Smith’s lips have bled from his constant anxious biting. It was 4am and he was tired and worn out from the stress and worrying but he was adamant on staying awake until he saw Ross. Ross’ family had arrived and they got to stay in Ross’ room whilst they waited for results from the operation.

  
Smith is in a sleep-hazed state when he hears erratic wailing coming from down the hallway. Suddenly alert he attempts to figure out where the sounds are coming from. He looks at Trott, who looks back at him equally as worried. Smith thinks that it’s coming from Ross’ room, but is immediately in denial. It could be anyone.

  
“Is that… Ross’ mother…?” Trott asks hesitantly, affirming the unthinkable to Smith. Smith doesn’t reply but gets up and runs over to the receptionist.

  
“Who is that? Is that coming from Ross Hornby’s room? Is he okay? God, is he okay?” Smith asks desperately.

  
“I’m sorry sir, but I don’t know, and I can’t disclose any information.” The receptionist replied remorsefully, pity in her eyes for the mess of a man in front of her. Smith looks back down the hallway and stands there waiting for any signs of movement for an hour, sleep pulling at his eyes again, but he wasn’t going to sleep until he knew Ross was okay.

  
Smith sits back down next to Trott, and another hour passes. It’s 6:13am when a doctor sorrowfully wanders down the hallway and gestures for them to come to him. Smith stares into the doctor’s eyes desperately, in attempts to read what he’s going to say before he says it.

  
“I’m sorry you had to wait so long, but the immediate family has priority in these situations… and I’m very sorry to have to tell you this but, Ross didn’t make it... He has passed away, I’m so sorry. He fought so hard but it wasn’t enough.” The doctor discloses.

Smith’s mind goes numb and all he can hear is a faint buzz in his ears, as if a bomb just went off. He stares at the doctor in disbelief, the words he said not fully registering with Smith. The doctor respectfully mutters his apologies before leaving silently, leaving Smith in shock, staring into the distance. He hears Trott’s faint sobbing beside him, but most sound is overtaken by the numb sound filling his ears and his mind and numbing him to his core. He was gone. Ross was gone. He would never be able to tell him how he felt. He loved him. He really loved him. Tears finally fall down Smith’s cheeks and a loud sob erupts from his throat. More sobs come uncontrollably as he falls into a mess on the floor. Trott sits on the floor with him, putting his arm around Smith as they both cry.

 

* * *

 

A day passes, a week passes, a month passes, but it all meshes into one. It all feels empty. Everyday is the same; everyday hurts as much as the last, as much as the day he lost him. Everyday is filled with guilt; everyday is filled with the regret of unspoken words. The house is always silent. Everything is silent. Smith would give anything to hear that incessant beat boxing, anything to break the silence.

  
Smith is laying in bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark. He hasn’t slept properly since he left. Since he walked out the door and never came back. He sits up on his laptop and plays their old videos, tears absently rolling down his cheeks as he hears Ross’ voice. He feels guilty for laughing at their jokes, he shouldn’t laugh anymore. He can’t laugh anymore. Every time he does, he’s reminded of him and his ability to always make him laugh, no matter what, even if he didn’t want to. Smith spends hours watching their old videos at night, anything to take him away from the reality, the reality is worse at night; he can’t escape from his thoughts. He watches the videos and immerses himself back into that time, though after it all he’s hit with the sick reminder that that time is over now. Ross is no longer here. Hat Films is over. Everyday is the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed. This is the first ever fanfic I've written so feedback would be nice! Also, sorry for the sadness.


End file.
